


Simon Says

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottom Misha Collins, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rape Roleplay, Top Jared Padalecki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 13:24:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17788205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Misha directs things as they go, but things kind of get away from them a little.





	Simon Says

**Author's Note:**

> So, obviously this never happened.
> 
> Misha’s essentially topping from the bottom here, directing as he goes, but then his chosen predicament makes that a little difficult, so while he does consent here, he loses the ability to get Jared to take things a little easier.

The moment the trailer door closes, Jared’s on him, pushing him back against the closet, crowding him.

He kisses him, tongue slipping eagerly between those lips, and the dirty moan he gets in return only spurs him on.

Misha nudges him back, suddenly, eyes sparking with desire. “Not like that,” he says. He raises his hands, puts them against Jared’s chest. “Like this.”

Jared takes the hint. He grabs Misha’s wrists and pins them above his head, and goes back to the kissing.

It’s different now; harsher, more controlling. He’s _taking_ , and he can feel how hard Misha is just from that change in the dynamic.

He feels Misha push back against him, writhing, and he breaks away again, though he doesn’t take his hands from Misha’s wrists.

“Maybe you should put me on the bed,” Misha says.

Yeah, the bed sounds good. He has to shift his hold, tugging Misha against him, turning them and then forcing him down the narrow hall to the small sleeping area at the end of the trailer.

They get knocked, a little, door knobs and sharp edges bruising and scraping, but then Jared shoves Misha down onto the bed and follows him down before he can get back up, pinning him again with his weight.

“So what are you going to do with me now,” Misha says, making it sound not quite like a question, and struggling enough to tell Jared exactly what he _wants_ him to do.

It’s not easy to strip Misha like this; he’s like a feral cat, and he gets a wicked scratch mark down Jared’s arm, that immediately stings like a bastard, and Jared’s a little less gentle after that.

At the end of it, Misha’s bare, and Jared’s down to jogging pants, with nothing underneath, because Misha had told him to expect plans, tonight.

Now, Misha’s lying there, breathing hard, with one of Jared’s hands on his stomach, a restraining weight, and the other resting a lot whole lighter around his throat.

“Don’t want me making too much noise, do you?” Misha says. He glances at the small bedside unit.

Jared takes his hand off Misha’s neck long enough to open the door, and sure enough there’s two long silk scarves in there.

He picks them up and looks down into those eager blue eyes.

“Figured you might want your hands available for other things, too,” Misha says.

And that’s how Misha ends up with the scarf biting into the edges of his mouth, the fabric spit soaked and silencing his cries. His wrists bound tight against the small of his back, fingers flexing helplessly as Jared opens him up.

And when he sinks in, the fabric in Misha’s mouth isn’t quite enough to swallow up the sharp cry as he’s breached, the wordless pleas as Jared takes him with a punishing pace, working that shuddering body until he comes.

He flips Misha over, and jerks him off, fast and sloppy, until he’s streaking them both with his cum and then all he can do is lie there, eyes screwed shut, heart thudding against Jared’s palm when he rests his hand on his lover’s chest.

“Misha?”

There’s no response, and Jared won’t deny his sudden panic. He pulls Misha up against him, finding a smothering fear in how the smaller man sags against his weight, and quickly undoes the scarf from around his head, and the other from around his wrists.

Then he lays him gently back down, stroking his face, his chest, trying to pull him back from where he is.

“Misha.” It’s more forceful, now, when he calls to him because he needs to know he’s alright. 

Misha reaches out blindly for Jared’s hand, interlocks their fingers, and then, finally, looks up at him.

“Maybe,” he says, and his voice sounds as gravel rough as Cas’s, “maybe we either use the gag _or_ put me face down. Next time.”

Jared slumps down onto the bed, and tugs Misha over until he has him snug in his arms. He holds him tight, letting him slowly settle.

If there is a next time, he’ll definitely make sure they plan it better.


End file.
